


Gawain and the Witch

by Super_Lu



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gender Identity, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 10:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_Lu/pseuds/Super_Lu
Summary: Young Gawain, one of the greatest knights of the round table, is troubled by dark feelings she feels unable to share with her fellow warriors. Feeling lost and unsure of herself, she sets out on a quest to find the great witch Morgan Le Fey to help solve her inner turmoil.





	Gawain and the Witch

The shriek that rose from the woods was the only warning as the goblin horde made another foray into the small village on the outskirts of Camelot. All who could fight had gathered what they could to defend themselves, sure this would be the end. The hoard had arrived days before, hiding within the forest during the days and making calculated raids at night. In only a few days many of the villagers had been slaughtered and the smoke of burning homes and fields darkening the sky. Without a moment to waste, the villagers chose their fastest rider go and beg for help in Camelot, the kingdom already besieged by other threats. Three days had passed and still there was no sign of help on the horizon. The remaining villagers could only gather together and try to stay alive for as long as they could. Unfortunately for them, the goblins believed that no help would be coming from the castle beyond, and emerged from hiding ready for war.

A large goblin, as tall as a tree and as wide as three men, strode up to the front of the horde and laughed. He pointed his sword and let out an earth shaking roar, the first line of goblins charging out with glee. The villagers braced for what they knew to be their end, but did not feel the tips of goblin blades piercing their bodies. They looked to see a blur appearing in front of them, shining armor gleaming in the afternoon light, face off against the monsters. Before the goblins could comprehend this new enemy, their heads were sent rolling across the grass, their black blood burning the earth it defiled.

“Made it just in time, looks like.” The knight said, looking back at the stunned villagers with an easy smile. “Sorry for the wait everyone.”

“It’s Sir Gawain!” a villager cheered, many others recognizing the beautiful face of the young knight. The ground shook again, this time from the approaching cavalry bearing the flags of Camelot, the great King Arthur and his knights leading the charge.

“Keep the villagers safe! Defend the people of our kingdom!” Shouted the king, his voice echoing even above the thunder of the horse’s hooves. The knights screamed out their reply, riding and running full sprint into the awaiting army.

* * *

Camelot was in full celebration at the return of their king and his men, weary from battle but pleasant smiles on their faces. Thought there had been a few sacrifices, the king and his men had defeated the horde of beasts at the border and saved the remaining villagers. Those lost to the goblins weighed heavily on the king, his guilt at not being quicker poisoning his heart, but for the moment he wearily smiled to the people as he and his men returned home.

“What a fight…” Lancelot said, leaning back in his saddle as the castle became ever bigger with each step forward. “I can’t wait to be out of this armor and into bed!” Gawain laughed, nodding in agreement.

“I get what you mean! I wish to get clean of this rancid blood and just sleep until next spring.”

“As if you need more beauty sleep Gawain!” Lancelot joked, putting the younger knight into a head lock and giving a gentle squeeze. “Any more beautiful and people will think you’re a woman, eh?” The other knights howled with laughter, yet Gawain was silent, a blush appearing on the knight’s face. 

* * *

Gawain sat alone by the hearth as the knights and soldiers celebrated in the halls following their return. Once again Camelot was safe and all around the kingdom people were celebrating the defeat of their latest foe, but Gawain did not feel as joyful as her compatriots. She simply sat quietly and looked into the fire, her eyes unseeing and unaware of the heat. A slap on her back brought her out of her thoughts and back to reality with a squeak.

“Come Gawain! Why are you so sour?” the powerful Lancelot towed over Gawain, his long black hair not hiding the red that covered the knight’s face. He picked up his young friend and carried him to the party, Gawain tucked safely under one arm and his goblet in the other, already raised to his lips.

“Lancelot!” Gawain complained, struggling to escape the other knight’s grasp. “Thanks you for your concern, but I don’t need your help to join the party!”

Lancelot bellowed, putting the smaller knight down and patting their shoulder.

“I’m sorry my friend. Just seeing you pouting alone makes the rest of us feel a bit anxious.” Lancelot scratched his face awkwardly, searching for the right words in his drunken head. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to us, right?” He smiled gently, and patted Gawain’s shoulder gently, all drunkenness lost at the moment. Gawain smiled, but gingerly removed the larger man’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, nearly lost among the cheering around them, “but I think I’m just exhausted after today’s battle. Goodnight, Lancelot.” Without another word, Gawain left the party and went to find solitude in the garden, hoping everyone would be too busy having fun to come out and admire flowers tonight.

The harsh wind bit through Gawain’s tunic, sending a chill down her spine and through her body, helping ease her troubled mind. She regretted how she treated Lancelot, but how could she talk about this with anyone? Could anyone truly understand how she felt…even now “she” was calling herself a woman – at least to herself - when all her life she had been told she was a man. Tears quietly rolled down Gawain’s dark cheek, her bright green eyes looking sadly up at the moon.

“What’s on your mind?” called a voice from behind. Gawain gasped, leaping up and rushing to the feet of King Arthur, who leaned against the wall, his regal tunic covered in a thick bear skin to keep him safe from the coming cold.

“Your highness!” Gawain yelled, looking down to hide her face from her uncle. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you, sir!” Arthur chuckled and patted the young knight’s blond hair.

“It’s alright. No need to be so formal nephew. Come, let me see your face.” Gawain was hesitant to show her king her face, yet an order was an order. Gawain stood up and looked at her king, a few tears still escaping her eyes.

“Lancelot did say you were off tonight, and it seems his guess hit the mark.” Arthur said, “Are you okay, Gawain? Have you been injured? Worried? What is bothering you?” Arthur, taking Gawain by the hand, guided her to a seat in the garden, the two looking out to the village below the castle. “What’s wrong, Gawain?” Gawain felt as if a frog had been shoved down her throat, unsure of what to say.

“Uncle,” she said at length, “I’m okay. Honest!” she could feel her fake smile slowly collapsing as she spoke. “Really it’s…” she tailed off, Arthur looking unconvinced. He took the young knight’s hand in his own, and squeezed it.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me. We are family and you’re one of the greatest knights I know. I have always been proud to have you by my side.” Gawain’s eyes felt hot, the tears flowing freely from her eyes and staining her cheeks.

“Uncle!” Gawain buried her face in her uncle’s chest, her tears soaking Arthur’s shirt. The king simply waited and patted her head, staying silent. As Gawain’s sobs slowed, then stopped and she drew several deep breaths, Arthur patted her shoulder and smiled.

“Feel better?” he asked. Gawain nodded, wiping her face on her sleeve. “What has been on your mind?” He held his nephew closer, his warmth slowly spreading throughout the distraught knight, her body filling with warmth and courage.

“Uncle,” Gawain whispered, “I don’t think I was born…correct. It feels like I was born in the wrong body.” She removed herself from the tight hug and let the cold come onto her again, the chill helping her force the words out. Arthur did not understand what Gawain meant by those words, yet he held his questions to let his nephew speak when ready. “You see, ever since I was a child I felt like something was wrong. No matter how strong I became or how many people have called me a hero, I never felt like I have truly been me.” Gawain covered her eyes, her tears hidden from her uncle again. Arthur, concerned, could do nothing more but hold the young knight closer, hoping to squeeze away whatever was wrong.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Arthur asked.

Gawain smiled grimly, a bitter laugh echoing quietly in the garden.

“I don’t know.” She sighed, the familiar feeling of hopelessness settling once again. “Unless you can turn me into a woman, I don’t think there is anything that can really help. Nothing short of a wizard could do that, and I am sure Merlin wouldn’t bother wasting his time, wherever he is.” Gawain’s heart almost leapt out of her throat. She had told her secret like it was nothing, and to the king no less, family or not. She had not realized how much she had said, but thinking back on it, she was sure the king would be angry with her. Maybe even banish her from her place at the round table for wanting something so strange. She looked to her uncle, expecting a look of loathing, but was met with a face contorted in concentration.

Arthur had his hand on his chin, mumbling to himself as if Gawain was not next to him. She waved her hand in front of the king’s face, but was left waiting for a long while till the king finally open his eyes, a smile spreading on his face.

“I’m sorry to admit I don’t think I will be able to be of much help Gawain, but I can think of one person who might be able to help.” He stood and pointed out to the sky, the dawn slowly encroaching on the horizon. “I have heard that far to the east, your aunt Morgan Le Fey has been seen popping up in villages and cities across the region. I’m sure if you look across the kingdoms you will find her, and she will be able to help.” Arthur stood up and started across the garden as fast as possible, Gawain scampering behind. “I’ll have your horse and supplies ready in a few hours. Until then, rest and get ready for a long journey.” Arthur stopped and turned to face Gawain, the poor knight’s face beat red from trying to keep the king’s pace. “I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you, my niece. No matter what you’re welcome in my court, forever.”

Gawain felt her fears subside, tears of relief burning her eyes, her heart lighter than it ever had been before. She whiped away the tears, and kneeled in front of her king.

“My lord, I accept this quest to find my aunt! I promise I will come back victorious, as any worthy knight of Camelot would.” Arthur nodded and slapped Gawain’s back, before rushing off to prepare for his nieces departure.

* * *

Gawain swept the sweat from her brow, the afternoon sun bringing an unending assault of heat and humidity. Gawain had been on the hunt for her elusive aunt for the past month, and so far had only caught the tail ends of rumors and stories. Now, at the gates of a foreign city in a very foreign land, Gawain hoped her journey had finally come to a close. To her surprise, the gates of the city were wide open as Gawain approached, allowing many travelers in and out of the city unimpaired. Gawain joined a procession of people entering the city, marveling at the stalls that lined the road. Wares from many foreign lands were present, being haggled for and sold at an alarming pace. It was all too much for poor Gawain, who wandered the street in a daze.

Her dizzying walk was brought to a halt by her slamming into something very solid, sending her sprawling on her backside.

“Watch where ya goin’, boy!” a gruff voice reprimanded. Gawain leapt up and bowed low in apology.

“Forgive me, sir!” she replied back, ignoring the “boy” comment in favor of quickly defusing the situation. The man harrumphed in reply and started off, only to quickly turn back and look at Gawain with keen interest. 

“Say,” he said, reaching out to squeez the knight’s biceps and thighs, “are you a fighter, boy? Maybe a mercenary or something?”

“Um…” Gawain was taken aback, frozen in place the strangers sudden groping. The stranger stood up, seemingly satisfied with what he felt.

“Do you know why this festival is being thrown? Do you think something as grand as this could happen all the time?”

“Well…”Gawain started, the rest of her words swallowed by the stranger grabbing her shoulder and yanking her into his side.

“No, no, no! You see, today is a special day! Today is the day where fierce fighters from across the land have gathered to battle for a prize unlike any other!” Gawain could feel the man tugging her towards the center of the city, easily passing through the thick crowds. “Someone as strong as you, boy, might stand a good chance of winning the prize. I am a promoter on the lookout for you travelers that look like they could take a beating, and I’m sure you can take it like the best of them.” Gawain was eventually able to wriggle free, only to look at the giant colosseum that stood at the center of the city, vendors and viewers gathered together both inside and out to see the coming bouts. “Of course it is purely for sport. Unless you’re unlucky, you should be able to live. What do you say lad?”

Gawain crossed her arms and thought. It would be good to test of her skill, perhaps, and help her keep up her training as a knight, yet her quest was still ongoing, and delaying it even slightly might let Morgan get further and further away. “I’m sorry, sir, but I must decline your request. I’m looking for someone in the city, and shouldn’t let more time slip away.”

The man sighed, clearly disappointed but hearing Gawain’s words, was sure he could no sway the warrior and could only watch her walk away. Nevertheless, he spoke again.

“A shame. I will have to find another more interested in getting a witch to grant their truest desire.” Gawain stopped dead in her tracks, rounding back to the stranger.

“Can you repeat that?” she asked, her voice monotone. The stranger snapped his fingers suddenly.

“Ah! I knew I forgot something!” he said slyly, sensing he’d managed to finally capture the young knight’s interest. “The prize for the winner is to have their deepest desire granted by a most powerful witch. She hails from a county very far from here, and ventured here to meet with our king. What was her name again? Morgan La…Bay? May? Ray?”

“Fey?” Gawain asked.

“That’s it!” The man yelled out, laughing at his own forgetfulness. Gawain, meanwhile, was flabbergasted by how close her quest was to completion. Her aunt was only a stone’s throw away from her and so, too, was her desire.

“Please sign me up! I would be honored to compete” Gawain said. “When does the tournament start?”

* * *

The tunnels under the arena were damp and cold, only warmed by the torches the lined the walls. The light from the torches was faint, going not too far from its source before being swallowed by the darkness. The thin leather armor that protected Gawain’s arms, shoulders, and chest clung tight to her body, more for show than actual protection. In her right hand she held a long wooden practice sword, the “blade” thick and heavy like her actual sword. It was heavy and cumbersome, but not the worst weapon she could have asked for. The other warriors around her adjusted their armor and weapons, those in the small room still and deathly quiet, the echoes of the cheering above barely audible underneath the rock and stone. 

“Hohoho. So many gathered to fight for our people’s enjoyment. Such an honor, I must say.” The warriors turned to see an old woman appear from the dark, flanked by two large soldiers covered in armor, both wielding large spears. “How do you do? I’m the matron of the gladiators in this colosseum. Here my word is law, and if you wish to compete you will follow the law. Understood?” The old woman was small, maybe up to Gawain’s waist, but her eyes held a commanding presence, and her words quickly caught the attention of those around her. “If you are knocked out or surrender you lose. There is no honor to be found here. Win however you can, even if you have to bite and claw your way to victory.” A few of the warrior laughed, nodding their agreement.

“Can we kill, or no?” one man asked. The old woman shrugged and shook her head.

“The king would rather not have to burry you in a foreign land, but if your opponent is weak then that’s it.” Tension filled the room, many of the warriors now looking at one another with suspicion. “Good luck warriors. Remember, you are fighting for your deepest desires. Fight as though your lives are on the line.” The old woman looked about the room and pointed at the man who asked about killing. “You! And the womanly looking warrior there! You’re up first!” Gawain sighed, ignoring the old woman’s comment and heading past her fellow contestants into the dark.

The afternoon sun was hot, making the pit of the area feel like an oven for the two warriors inside. Gawain could barely concentrate on what was around her. The heat dulled her mind and the roars of the crowd deafened her ears. All she could see was her opponent in front of her, large and imposing in the empty pit. In one hand, he wielded a mighty wooden axe, the weapon as thick as a tree. He swung it around with ease, drawing a gasp and applause from the crowd. Gawain ignored his posturing, looking up at where the king sat, next to him a beautiful woman in a black robe, covered in crow feathers and bones, her face hidden under a hood. Gawain wasn’t sure if this was truly Moran Le Fey, but she wasn’t about to let her chance slip by. Not when she was so close…

“Ladies and gentlemen!” From a platform attached to the side of the area, a man in a flamboyant robe called out the audience, who quieted at his words. “Are you ready to see a show?!” he called out, earning a thunderous cheer from the crowd. “Today, my friends, you are in for a treat! We have a dozen combatants, all fighting for the chance to earn their greatest desire as a gift from a witch of a foreign land! They will battle to their limits to achieve what their hearts yearn for the most. Expect to see blood, sweat, and tears. Are you ready?!” Another cheer answered. “Well then. Fighters! Ready…go!”

“Sorry kid! But that wish is mine!” The giant man screamed out, swinging his axe wildly before charging in. The man moved quickly for a man so large, and was already towering over the much smaller knight. He swung down with all his might, showering the arena with sand and dirt. There was a gasp from the audience, thinking the smaller warrior already defeated. Yet when the dust settled, Gawain was safe, dusty but unharmed from the man’s strike. The man rose his ax again, swinging diagonal from the ground up to the sky, but Gawain easily tilted her upper body to doge the strike. Again and again the man swung and Gawain was simply gone before the man’s weapon could strike. The man, enraged, rose his ax high in the air with a roar. Gawain stepped in and with a wide swing hit the man’s chin hard with his sword, the crack of wood hitting bone echoing. The man dropped his ax, falling forward and face hitting the ground, Gawain moving to the side to let the man fall.

“Sorry,” Gawain said in the now silent area, “but I need that wish as well.”

* * *

The sun was close to setting, twilight slowly painting the horizon, and in the giant area only two warriors remained after a long day of fighting. Gawain had swept through each of her opponents with ease. Having to fight many powerful warriors one after another had left her feeling heavy with fatigue. If Gawain dropped her guard for a moment, she felt her weariness would overcome her before she could even fight her last opponent. She focused herself and pushed away the encroaching exhaustion, looking at her last opponent that sat across the touch lit room. 

The young man was silent, sitting crossed leg with their eyes closed, a deep calmness radiating from his body. The stranger looked about as old as Gawain, with black hair tired behind in a ponytail and a curved wooden sword laying on the floor. The boy looked disconnected from the arena around him, yet Gawain sensed if need be the boy could be ready to fight in moment’s notice. For now, they had been left alone to rest for a while before the final round.

“Hey,” Gawain called out, hating the oppressive silence, “what’s your name?” The man opened his eyes, clearly suspiciously of the suddenly talkative knight.

“Mono. And you?”

“I’m Gawain.” She walked over to the still sitting warrior, and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you Mono.” She smiled, taking Mono aback for a moment, before he too smiled and shook her hand.

“Admittedly, it’s a bit strange to talk to my opponent so freely.”

Gawain shook her head.

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you for being on edge. It’s been nonstop fighting all day.” Gawain took a seat next to Mono and leaned against the stone pillar, the cool rock relieving some of the tension in her body. “I came to this city this morning to look for someone, and ended up fighting for a wish. Not exactly how I expected this day to go.”

Mono chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“I can understand that. I arrived a few days prior, hoping to meet the king and request his aid.”

“Meet with the king?” Gawain asked, looking puzzled. Mono nodded.

“You see I have come far from the East, crossing many countries and kingdoms to ask the king of these lands for his aid. My people are being assaulted by an evil ruler who wishes to subjugate us. The king here traveled long ago to my homeland, becoming friends with my father. I was sent to ask for his aid.” Mono’s hand tightened on the hilt of his wooden sword. “Yet if I can win this tournament…I can ask both the witch and the king for aid. For sure I’d be able to save my home.” Gawain saw in the stranger’s eyes a look she had seen often in her uncle when he talked about keeping the people of his kingdom safe. It was the look of a person willing to sacrifice it all for their goals. It was amazing to see, yet it also caused Gawain to feel a pang of guilt in her heart. Was her wish so important, she thought, compared to this person’s?

She had no time to wonder, as both she and Mono where called to the area. “Sir Gawain, I hope my story won’t make you pity me. Above all else, I am still a warrior. I wish to win this fight by my own strength.” With that, Mono smiled before marching off into the darkness, past the light of the torches. Gawain, alone again, felt the weight of Mono’s wish on her heart. Even so close to her own goal, her morals and ideals where at war with her desire. As she wandered to the area, she wondered what her king would do. Sacrifice her morals and ideals for a selfish wish, or pursue what he wanted to the bitter end?

When she arrived in the center of the area, and saw Mono waiting there, all thoughts of what was right and wrong where blown away. Gawain placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, the solid object steeling her against the waves of fear and guilt. Gawain focused, knowing now would not be the time to worry. For now, she had to fight. The two drew their swords, blocking out the announcer engaging the crowd and their constant cheers. The word ‘begin’ rang out like a bang, and the two rushed forward.

The two clashed, the thud of their wooden swords echoing loudly even against the cheering crowd. Gawain broke off, kicking her foot into Mono’s chest and pushing him away, both knocking the wind out of the warrior and gaining some space. As Mono recovered his breath, Gawain rushed forward and swung down, both her hands on the grip of the sword to give it extra power. Mono feinted to the left, dodging the heavy blow and swung, hitting Gawain hard against her ribs. The young knight yelled out in pain, stumbling back to catch her breath.

Mono did not let up, advancing forward while laying blow after blow to keep up the pressure. Gawain could only stay on defense, blocking the incoming strikes as they came, each hit vibrating through her sword and up her arms, leaving them increasingly numb with each hit. The unrelenting barrage was also taking its effects on Mono, his arms becoming heavier with exhausting and his breath labored. The barrage slowed for just a moment, Gawain taking the opportunity to plant her feet into the dirt and push forward with all her momentum, colliding with Mono and sending them both tumbling forward.

Mono was quick to respond, quickly getting back to his feet and rushing forward, but was careless in his charge. Gawain rolled onto her feet and pushed forward, her sword landing right into Mono’s belly. He felt his breath escape his lungs, and bile surge up into his mouth. Gawain could only watch as the young boy coughed up whatever rose into his mouth and struggle to rise to his feet, his breath just as labored as her own.

Gawain’s sword hand shook as she tried to regain her breath. This boy was one of the fiercest warriors she had ever met, her body pushed far beyond what she was used to. It had only been a few minutes, but already she felt ready to collapse. Through hazy eyes, she saw Mono struggling to rise, her thrust doing a lot more damage than she at first anticipated. Both warriors knew that whoever landed the next blow would come out the winner. Gawain was first to stand, reading her sword, both hands on the hilt awaiting her opponent. Mono was soon up as well, crouching low to take his last attack as well. The audience, in recognition, had stopped cheering and held their breath.

Gawain charged, leading with a thrust directed right at Mono’s chest. In reply, Mono leaped up into the air, avoiding the thrust and responded with a slash down. Gawain wasn’t the least bit surprised, turning in a semi-circle, using her momentum to change the thrust into a slash up. Mono cursed, seeing the direction had changed and seeing there was not chance for him to avoid the attack. When the blade stopped short. Mono did not hesitate to take the opportunity to swing down, knocking the sword from Gawain’s hand and kicking her in the chest, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Before the knight could move, Mono ran forward and put his sword against Gawain’s throat. Feeling the wood against her throat, Gawain could only smile.

“I yield,” she said, the area letting out a pent up roar of excitement. Mono looked shocked, anger filling his chest as he looked down at the smiling Gawain.

“Why…” he mumbled, his fist shaking in fury. “Why did you let me win!?” he cried out, the cheers cut short.

“Yes, why is that, Sir Knight?” said a low rumbling voice. Mono turned to see the king and the witch, standing right behind the two warriors with a please look on his face. “You let this young man take the advantage and best you. Why?”

Gawain sighed, kneeling before the foreign king.

“Your highness,” she started, eyes downcast, “this man has a noble and pure quest he needs to complete. I had joined this tournament for selfish reasons alone, and knew in my heart that no matter how deep a wish I have, saving the lives of friends and families comes first.” Gawain rose her head, tears streaming down her face. “Mono deserved a good fight and I honored him with my best, but I knew my honor would not let innocent people be in danger. This was the only choice I could make, my lord.” The old king chuckled, his gray and black beard bouncing gently.

“Truly you are a knight of Arthur’s court, Sir Gawain. You’re aunt has told me much about you, and I am happy to see it was no exaggeration.” The king turned away from Gawain and put his large hand on Mono’s shoulder. “Sir Mono, It has reached my ears about what has happened in your country.”

“Your highness…”

“I would like to discuss sending a contingent of ours to aid in your struggles. Of course you may also ask for aid from Morgan, as it is your right as winner of our tournament.” Mono shook his head, declining the offer, and bowed low to the king.

“Thank you, your highness, but just hearing that my people will have your aid has filled me with hope…thank you.” Mono cried as the king helped him to his feet, and guided the young man out of the arena.

“Ah!” the king exclaimed, looking back at Gawain, “that reminds me. Sir Gawain, your aunt would like a word with you. I hope to see you again.” And with that he walked away with the victor, while the hooded woman guided Gawain to the barracks below.

The two walked, Gawain not sure what to say to her aunt.

“It is good to see you again, nephew…or should I say niece?” Morgan said, a small laugh echoing in the darkened hall. Gawain was shocked, her mouth hanging open.

“Lady Morgan…” she stuttered, earning her another chuckled. Morgan removed her hood, revealing the beautiful woman underneath. Morgan’s beauty was something of legend around Camelot, her black skin and white hair earning her much praise, to say nothing of her gorgeous face and figure. The only one to rival Morgan’s beauty would be the lady, Guinevere. The witch laughed again, reading Gawain’s thoughts.

“Thank you for the compliments my niece, but flattery will get you nowhere.” She led the embarrassed Gawain down further into the underground, eventually coming to a small door hidden in the shadows. Morgan mumbled words unfamiliar to Gawain, and the door swung open, revealing a room much too large to be embedded in this hallway. It was covered in furs and rugs from around the world, all bright and colorful. At one end of the room sat a large table, covered in strange bottles of varying colors and papers scattered about. Along the other walls where shelves filled with books, pots, and vials of varying shapes and colors. All in all, Gawain thought, it was very much a room for a witch.

Morgan sat on a large cushion, settling into it before releasing a sigh. “Who knew sitting for ages in heavy robes could be so exhausting. I think I understand what my poor brother puts up with more now.” As she massaged her shoulders, Gawain sat nervously across from her, looking intently at his aunt. “What do you need of me child? I do not expect you came all this way just to say hello to family?”

“Lady Morgan…I have a favor I would like you to grant me…but I do not think I can ask it of you anymore.” Morgan’s eye brow shot up, curious to the bold proclamation.

“Why?” she asked. Gawain shook her head and sighed.

“I am unworthy of it. I have lost my chance to ask of you anything…Mono, because his wish was far more virtuous than my own, won by my own choice. How can I ask for anything, then, when someone more deserving is in need?”

Morgan sighed.

“I swear…your heart is in the right place, my niece, but you are a bit thick.” Gawain was aghast, but held her tongue. “In what world is there a rule saying I cannot help both of you?” She hit the sitting Gawain in the head, and chuckled as her expression changed from sadness to confusion. “You had proven how virtuous you are by sacrificing your own desires for another. Something not many in this world could do easily. For your sacrifice, I would be more than happy to help you become the woman you clearly are.” Morgan reached out and cupped Gawain’s face, a few tears pooling in her palm. “Close your eyes, my dear, and envision who you truly are. What you were meant to be.”

Gawain closed her eyes and saw herself as she wished to be. She saw a woman with long blond hair, an average sized chest and hips, and a soft face that was cute no matter how one looked at it. The woman in her mind was a bit shorter than Gawain, with narrower shoulders and much less body hair than she had now. In her mind, the woman walked up to Gawain as she currently was and the two embraced, a warm feeling passing over her body and soul.

“Perfect…” she heard a voice call out, so distant it sounded like a gust of wind, “Come back Gawain. Come back and look at yourself.” The voice became clearer with every second, the voice repeating itself over and over till Gawain pulled herself away from the woman and opened her eyes. She saw met with Morgan’s own golden eyes looking back into her, a smile of satisfaction spread across her lips. “Look at yourself Gawain.”

She pointed to a mirror she conjured from thin air, Gawain gasped when she looked into it. No longer was there the figure she was accustomed to seeing, but a slender woman with black skin and long blond hair that sat in front of Morgan. When Gawain moved her lips, so did the woman. When she stood up and stripped herself of her armor, so too, did the woman in the mirror. It was Gawain, and Gawain was she.

Excuse me,” Gawain mumbled, hurrying away from her aunt to a secluded part of the room, where she was sure Morgan could not see. Soon as she felt she was alone, her hands began to explore her new body with a haste not unlike a child examining a gift from a parent.

Her frame was smaller than before, but when she thought back to her removing her armor with little problem a moment before, she realized her strength seemed unchanged by the magic transformation. She cupped her breasts through her shirt, crying as she felt their weight and softness. Her hands wandered to her butt and felt its new softness and roundness, blushing as she gave it a squeeze. She opened her trousers and looked to her nethers and saw her penis had been replaced with new lips and a clit, her innards warm as her new womb blossomed.

“Having fun?” Morgan called out, snapping Gawain back to reality. Calming herself, Gawain walked back over to Morgan and stood in front of the witch. She wanted to say thanks, but no words could pass her throat, besides a whimper and tears. Morgan hugged her niece and smiled.

“You are beautiful dear. Go back to my brother and your fellow knights and show them who you truly are.” A bit of fear crept into Gawain’s heart at that moment.

“I have been so focused on the journey here that I didn’t think of what would happen when I returned. I know my uncle will be there for me, but I am afraid if my friends are not as supporting”.

Morgan scoffed.

“You are a knight of my foolish brother’s court and Camelot is the greatest kingdom in the world. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” With that she gave her niece on final hug. “Good luck with your new life Gawain.” Morgan snapped her fingers, and Gawain found herself dressed once again, on the outskirts of the city with her horse by her side and her equipment ready to go. She could see the city still celebrating the recently-ended tournament with dancing and songs throughout the city, but her new quest now lay in returning home, to face one final challenge.

* * *

King Arthur and his knights gathered around their table, looking towards the woman knelt far off from them. Her long blond hair was tied into a pony tail, and she wore a tunic and pants that seemed too big for her. Yet when she looked up with her emerald eyes, Arthur recognized the young knight of his court, Gawain.

“Welcome home Gawain.” He announced to the room, his knights gasping in surprise. “I take it you have found what you were looking for?” he asked with a chuckle. Gawain smiled back, a smile Arthur was sure he had never before seen on her face.

“Yes, your highness.” She said, standing up for her fellow knights to see. She gripped her arm tightly, trying to control her shaking, and took a deep breath. “My friends…this is who I am. Truly this is how I was meant to be.” She took a deep breath, welling up all the courage she could. “Please allow me to continue to fight by your side!” She kneeled again, trying to keep the tears from showing. The room was silent again, her words hanging in the air.

“What a stupid thing to say.” Lancelot said, pushing his seat back and walking to the kneeling woman. “What has changed Gawain? Breasts? A soft face? You are still the knight I fought side by side with, are you not?” The others nodded their agreement and applauded Lancelot’s words. “I think the biggest issue will be to get you some new armor and clothes that look less…baggy. I swear you look like a sack of potatoes.” For the first time in a long time, Gawain felt she could laugh whole heartedly with her fellow knights and friends. Lancelot grabbed the smaller knight by her shoulders and forced her to her seat, the other knights congratulating her. Arthur smiled as he looked upon her niece again.

“Again, Gawain, welcome home.” Gawain nodded and smiled.

“It is good to be home, my king.”


End file.
